


What Friends Are For

by UP2L8



Series: Sex Shop AU [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: I don’t want to say who, M/M, but you’ll figure it out, two more characters from the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: Holy shit, this guy was a certifiable maniac!





	What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> I’m having waaaaaay too much fun with these. 😊

The tall, gangly man walked into the store that afternoon with unnatural ease, which set off Ed’s alarms immediately. Nobody came in with that much chutzpah unless they were 1) in the trade, 2) worked in an adult novelty shop too, or 3) were a bit nuts. The man glanced quickly around, eyes finally settling on Ed. His smile became unnervingly wide. 

Uh oh. Did Ed know this guy? 

Mid thirties. Tall. Dark spiky hair. A short, scruffy looking chin beard rimming a strong jaw. Rectangular glasses over intense green eyes. He looked business professional in dark slacks and an olive green pea coat.  

Nope. Ed didn’t know him. 

But he appeared to know Ed. From where, Ed had no idea. 

He strode over to the counter and leaned forearms on it, looking up at Ed with undisguised delight. 

“Can I help you?” Ed asked, shifting slightly back on his stool. Best to keep this professional. 

“No, not exactly. But at the same time, yes, definitely.” Glasses wiggled his eyebrows, probably aiming for enigmatic but coming off just shy of alarmingly deranged - an epic misfire. 

What Ed thought to himself was, ‘Okay, option 3.’ What he said out loud was, “Are you looking for something in particular?” 

“No, just wandered in out of curiosity.” 

“Well, if you see something you like, let me know.” And Ed winced internally. To a predator that would undoubtedly sound like an open invitation.  

Glasses didn’t take the opening, which was a relief. 

Instead, he turned his back to lean against the counter on his elbows, taking in the dubious splendor that was Pothos Boutique. 

In the mirror on the dressing room door, Ed watched as Glasses scanned a slow circuit of the showroom, starting with the DVD section by the counter, past the extensive selection of party games and favors, lingering for a moment on the provocatively posed manikins modelling erotic apparel before moving on to the lingerie spinners and footwear racks. As he panned by the dressing room he caught Ed watching him in the mirror and winked. Then his attention returned to his survey, skimming over the kink section, then on to the anal wall, the furniture, the inflatables, the dildo wall, and finally back to the case showing off the twerking butt positioned next to the checkout counter. 

Ed expected the man to turn back to him, but he wasn’t done. His interest was caught by the display islands in the middle ground, and he spent a few moments quietly examining the accessories, the lubes, the foams, the condoms, and finally the fleshlights, all from his vantage point against the counter. 

He finally turned back to Ed. 

“Nice place you have here,” he said, smile bordering on the maniacal. “Clean; attractively presented; nice variety of merchandise.” 

“I just work here,” Ed said, deadpan. “I’ll pass your approval on to management.” 

A jingle of door balls cut off how Glasses might respond, and Ed hoped it was Samantha coming in early for her shift. For some reason he felt a desperate need for backup. 

No such luck. A hugely overweight man walked in and looked in Ed’s general direction with vacant eyes. 

“Can I help you?” Ed asked. 

The big guy shook his head and looked around the store, locking a suddenly hungry gaze on the anal wall. He hurried over to stare in rapt fascination, a chubby index finger pressing a dimple into his cheek.

And he was drooling.  

What the hell was this? National Creep Out a Store Clerk Day? 

Glasses had turned toward the big guy and observed him until he’d scurried away to stare at his draw, and a moment more. Then he turned back to _his_ apparent draw. 

Ed. 

“Umm-” 

Glasses interrupted Ed’s complete lack of any idea what to say to him. “So, Edward, isn’t it?” Ed didn’t deny or confirm, wondering how this guy knew. Pothos staff didn't wear name tags. “Are you a family man?” 

“Uh-” 

“Oh, of course. You’re a bit on the young side for that, aren’t you?” Glasses laughed heartily. “Not too young to start keeping an eye out for that special person, though, just saying. Not pushing any particular sexual orientation either; love is love, am I right?” 

“Umm-” 

“I know, I know. To a youngster like you, the idea of a committed relationship must be a bit overwhelming.” Glasses patted at his coat pockets for a moment. “Hang on, I have some proof right here that a long term commitment is the best thing that could ever happen to you – provided you find the right someone to commit to." 

Glasses reached into his coat, and Ed tensed, wondering what he was going to pull out. A business card? A spiritual tract? An oddly shaped but perfectly balanced throwing knife? 

He pulled out a thick stack of . . . photos. 

Actual 4x6 glossy hardcopies. 

Glasses fanned them out on the counter like a blackjack dealer and grinned. 

Plucking a trio of pictures from the deck, he shoved them into Ed’s personal space. 

“This is my beautiful and talented wife.” Glasses’ face was a study in lovesick devotion. “Never has there been a more perfect partner.” He flashed one photo to the top of the stack. “This is us on our wedding day. She was so beautiful,” Glasses sighed, content. “And she’s as gorgeous to this day. Just look!” 

He started dealing out pictures of the pretty brunette like a Las Vega croupier. At home. In a neat, well kept yard. On beaches and boardwalks. In cars and trains. On swings and bicycles. There seemed to be no end to the photographic onslaught. How many of the damn things did this guy have? 

“She’s my perfect match,” Glasses sighed, fawning unashamedly over the, hopefully, last picture. 

To put up with this guy, she must also be a saint. 

“But as unbelievable as it sounds, my beautiful spouse gave me an even more wonderful gift than her hand in marriage,” Glasses said. 

Oh shit. Ed knew what was coming. He looked wildly around for some way to escape, but he was trapped behind the counter with no way out that didn’t involve shoving the man out of the way. 

And then it was too late. 

“This is my beautiful daughter!” Glasses whipped out a new handful of photos, this time of an admittedly adorable little girl. Probably about three years old, she had her mother’s sweet smile and her father’s eyes. 

“Cute,” Ed said, cautiously. 

Big mistake. 

Glasses grinned, encouraged, and started flipping out picture after picture like a master fucking magician while keeping up a running monologue describing each one in detail. Where he was pulling them from Ed had no idea. All of the sweet little girl. 

There were a shit load from the day she was born. _Every single day_ after that. Halloweens. Thanksgivings. Christmases. Every holiday Ed could imagine and some he’d never even heard of. First birthday. Second. Third. With her mother. With her father. With her friends. Dozens upon dozens of cute outfits, costumes, hairstyles, accessories, scenarios. It was _endless_. 

Shit, this guy had to be out of his mind! Did he wander around the city all day, looking for isolated retail employees so he could overwhelm them with photographs of his family? 

The door balls signalled another arrival, and this time Ed was hoping for an extremely picky, difficult to please customer who would keep him occupied to the end of his shift – some four hours hence. 

It was Samantha. Damn. His luck sucked harder than usual today. She nodded to him. Ed grimaced. She frowned in sympathy. He nodded over toward the big guy, who was still ogling the anal wall with disturbing intensity. Sam went briefly to the back room to ditch her coat, then returned to the showroom to speak with Big Guy. 

Another photo was shoved under Ed’s nose. 

“Look at this!” Glasses crowed. “My two perfect angels wearing _matching outfits_!” He cradled the picture against his face in a textbook obsessive-compulsive state of bliss, duck lips and all. 

“Hey!” Sam shouted in alarm. 

Ed looked up to see Big Guy dodging fluidly past her, charging with amazing speed for the door, a neon orange butt plug clutched to his chest. 

Goddamn! Second grab and dash of the week! 

Ed jumped off his stool to give chase. He needn’t have bothered. Before Ed could launch himself over the counter, Glasses casually slid out a foot and tripped the runner to a sliding sprawl on the floor. 

“Oh my! I’m so sorry!” Glasses stooped to pry the plug out of Big Guy's hands and tossed it up on the counter. Easily hauling the man to his feet despite his bulk, Glasses took a moment to dust him off. “Are you alright? You were leaving, weren’t you? Here, let me help you.” 

With an unyielding arm locked around Big Guy’s shoulders and a constant stream of meaningless platitudes, Glasses escorted him to the door. Opening it, he propelled the guy outside, wished him a pleasant day, and cheerfully bid him farewell. Big Guy stood on the sidewalk looking in for a moment, then with a confused frown he wandered away.  

“Now, where were we?” Glasses was back at the counter, shuffling through the mass of photos to find the ones he hadn’t shown off yet. Then he caught himself and looked up at Ed, a little sheepish. “That is, if you’re interested?” 

Holy shit, this guy was a certifiable maniac! 

And Ed was beginning to like him. 

The man had just done him a favor, and it was a slow day. He shrugged. “Sure, what the hell. Show me.” 

The pictures kept rolling. Samantha soon came over to exclaim over them and pulled out her phone to show off a few shots of her kids as well. Ed settled back to watch the parental byplay and accompanying banter, amused. 

It was close to six o’clock when Roy Mustang breezed into the store. Ed hadn’t been expecting him. He was horrified to feel his face soften into a sappy, contented smile at just the sight of him. 

And realized that Glasses was suddenly watching Ed with great intensity. 

While Roy was staring at Glasses with open-mouthed astonishment. 

“Maes? Wha-” 

“Roy! What a surprise!” 

Well, that explained a few things. 

Mustang was frowning. “What are you doing here?” 

“Why does one generally come into a store?” Glasses asked, the picture of innocence. 

“Not buying it, Maes.” 

Glasses’ laugh was a bit too loud. “That’s clever! Buying it! Because that’s what you do in a store!” 

Noting that he was the only one laughing, he stopped. Now he was frowning too. 

“I could be here to find something sexy for Gracia,” he said, petulant. “Not that she isn’t sexy enou-” 

“But you’re not.” Roy crossed his arms across his chest. 

“No, I’m not,” Glasses admitted. “You know why I’m here.” 

“Maes-” 

“It’s because you refused to bring him over for dinner on Saturday!” Forcefully. 

“It’s too soon. We’re just getting to know each other.” Quietly. 

Glasses backed down. He sighed. 

“Well, you keep talking about him, and I know you,” Glasses said, exasperated. He looked over at Ed. “Honestly, you should hear him. It’s been Edward this. Edward that. And all after going out for coffee _once_? I’ve never seen him like this! It’s annoying! I was in the neighbourhood and decided to pop in and meet the man who brought the great Roy Mustang to his knees. Err, so to speak.” 

Mustang looked like he was torn between rolling up in an embarrassed little ball and strangling his chattering friend. Ed kind of knew how he felt. 

“In the neighbourhood. You’re quite a distance from your own neighbourhood, aren’t you?” Roy said testily. “You’re stationed at 55 Division. This is the 41. That’s a good half hour drive. And you live in the opposite direction.” 

“Really? Shocking! I had no idea!” Hughes had plenty of ideas and did not appear to be shocked at all. “I’m not here in any kind of official capacity though, Roy. I’m here on a personal fact finding mission.” 

“Wait, you’re a police officer?” That explained a few more things. 

“He’s a Detective, at the 55,” Roy said sourly. “Maes Hughes, meet Edward Elric.” 

Hughes shot out a hand and grabbed Ed’s, giving it a hearty shake. “Any friend of Roy’s,” he said solemnly. The he turned back to Roy, brightening considerably. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring my camera! He’s adorable! Gracia and Elicia will love him! You have to bring him over for dinner!” 

“I will, Maes.” Roy’s smile was small but fond. “Soon.” 

That seemed to satisfy him. 

“So!” Hughes scooped his photos into a neat stack with practiced ease and stuffed them into his coat. “I guess I’d better be going.” He turned to Samantha. “It was nice to meet you Sam.” Then to Edward. “And you too, Ed. I’m sure we’ll be meeting again. Roy and I, we’ve been friends for a long time. Been though a lot together.” Reflected light on his glasses turned them into mirrors, hiding those intense green eyes when he said, “I would hate to see him hurt. _Seriously_ hate it.” His brilliant, deranged smile sprang back to life. “But since I suspect that you’re as smitten as he is, I’m sure that won’t be an issue.” 

Unnerving. 

But understandable. The day Al had come home from the hospital, Ed had slipped up about the coffee ‘date’ he had gone on with Mustang. The Al and Winry interrogation squad had gone into action, mercilessly wrenched out as many details as they could, and were delighted to do so. But after Winry had retired to her room, Al had been very quiet. 

“I worry about you, Brother,” he’d finally said, and would not allow Ed to interrupt. “You don’t eat enough. You don’t sleep enough. I worry that you’re not looking after yourself. I worry that you work too hard. I worry that you never do anything just for you. So please don’t feel guilty when you take time to do something that makes you feel good, because when you do, it makes me worry less. Just . . . be careful.” 

The brat. 

It was nice to know that Mustang had someone who cared about him, and really, Hughes wasn’t a bad guy. He was just looking out for a friend. Ed could easily imagine what might transpire when Al and Winry finally met Roy. It might be a good idea to warn him. 

Or, on the other hand, not. 

Why should Ed be the only one blindsided by well meaning loved ones? Where Winry’s style was more like Ed’s – as bluntly straightforward as a charging rhino – Al’s was more like Hughes’ - except that Al was disarmingly sweet instead of, like, outright _insane_. 

Actually, when he thought about it, Al and Hughes had quite a few similarities in the personality department. Overprotective was the first word that leaped to mind. Right before shrewd, decisive, and manipulative. And all of _that_ scary shit was hidden behind the smokescreen of an exceptionally cheerful, outgoing persona.  

Which was why Ed decided right then and there to dedicate his life to ensuring that Al and Hughes would never, ever meet. Under any circumstances. Period. The thought of the two of them joining forces was frankly terrifying.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the last one – for a while at least. I’m back to work tomorrow and I’m starting a university course Friday, so I’ll be busy. Darn real life interfering with my hobby. ☹


End file.
